Jonas's Song
by elysichor
Summary: A continued ending for The Giver. The true meaning of Jonas's mission and what lengths the Elders will go to to stop him. Applies to the book, not movie.


The news of Jonas's disappearance had come nearly half an hour ago, and still the Giver sat in his house, in his chair, waiting. He knew what was coming now. He knew that the Elders would realize he had something to do with the whole thing, and would confront him about it. He gave a wry smile and wondered how they would react if he gave the standard apology about it.

He knew, of course, that if he tried to flee the community, he would get away. Easily. But that wasn't part of the plan—not his and Jonas's plan. This was a plan the Giver concocted on his own, a plan he had kept secret from Jonas.

He reached out and took a sip from a mug of hot chocolate sitting on an end table, checked the time on his watch, and sighed. He did wish they could be quick about it.

As if on cue, the door opened. Not in the loud, violent way he had expected, but slowly and calmly. The Chief Elder stepped through, closing it behind her and staring at him from across the room. For a long moment neither said anything, until the Chief Elder sighed and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"I apologize for entering your home without permission," she said softly, and the Giver almost laughed aloud that she could care for formalities at a time like this. He reached for the mug again and gestured to her with it. "I've just made some hot chocolate. Would you care for some, or is a hot drink too illogical for you?" He was pleased to see her stiffen angrily, perhaps because he had ignored her apology.

"Where is he?" the Chief Elder said, her voice barely audible. "I know that you know where that boy is, and so help me, you are going to _tell_ me."

"He is going somewhere where he can change everything," the Giver replied, "and that's all I have to say."

The Chief Elder shook her head slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. "What have you done?" she whispered. "What have you _done_?"

"That remains to be seen," the Giver answered as he took another drink from his mug.

Jonas sucked in the icy air that tore at his lungs, fighting to keep going, fighting to stay upright. His numb fingers could no longer feel Gabe, clutched close to his chest, but it was the knowledge that he was there that kept Jonas going. "Not too far now, Gabe," he gasped through chapped, burning lips. "Not too far." He could see the house, see the lights twinkling happily inside. Music swirled in his head, beautiful voices relating a song about warmth, love, and peace.

One of Jonas's legs buckled and he fell, twisting as he did so in order to protect Gabe. He lied there on his back, shivering violently and clumsily rubbing his stiff hands over Gabe's back.

"Just need a rest," he whispered. "Just a quick rest, Gabe, and then we'll keep going. We're so close." Joy filled him at the thought of rescue, of the warm fire he knew to be in that house, and the more he thought about it, the more he seemed to feel it. All at once he wasn't cold anymore—in fact, he felt quite comfortable.

"Just a quick rest," he whispered as he closed his eyes. The music swirled louder and louder in his head, and as his vision blurred and his heart slowed to a stop, he wished only that Gabe could hear it too.

The Giver was sitting in the Auditorium when Jonas died. He knew because of the horrified expressions that washed over the faces of the Elders, the head-holding, the sudden tears. He saw it all and he smiled through tears of his own, because Jonas had completed the first part of the Giver's plan.

Calmly he watched the commotion that erupted among the assembled Elders, using this borrowed time to mourn. He had loved Jonas like a son, and the pain of losing two children was unbearable.

The Giver was suddenly seized, made to stand and walk out of the Auditorium. He was escorted down a long, white hallway and into a stark, bright room. The room was void of any furniture except for an uncomfortable-looking chair and several cabinets along with a counter against the back wall. The two people who had brought him there left, and he remained where he was, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was coming.

After a long while the Chief Elder entered behind him and walked around to the other side of the chair. "You knew this would happen," she accused, her voice shaking.

"Actually," the Giver said calmly, "I planned it. You see, when I lost Rosemary all those years ago, when you killed her and her memories were released unto the community…well, it got me thinking."

"Oh?" the Chief Elder said, a corner of her mouth lifting in a scowl. "What about?"

"Many unpleasant things, mainly about you," the Giver replied. "I'll tell you this, though. You never should have appointed another Receiver."

The Chief Elder blinked. "The Receiver is appointed in order to ensure—"

"That the history of our past is remembered, passed on to aid us in times of need," the Giver finished for her. "Yes, yes, I know."

The Chief Elder looked more confused than ever. "Then what are you—"

The Giver sighed. "Chief Elder, we both know I'm not the sort to spill my secrets, and if I'm not mistaken, you think you have a solution to all of this."

The Chief Elder gave a curt nod. "We have elected that having a Giver is too risky. After three clearly failed attempts, it is the unanimous decision to discontinue the services of the Giver." She turned and opened a cabinet, withdrawing a tray with a syringe and a vial of fluid. "Please be seated."

The Giver didn't move. "Even now that you have all of those memories of pain, loss, and war, your solution is still to simply kill whatever's bothering you."

" _Please be seated_!" the Chief Elder suddenly screamed, slamming the tray on the counter. She didn't move, except for a faint shaking of her shoulders, until the Giver slowly and quietly sat down. After a moment the Chief Elder stood at his side.

"Gabriel, official title the Giver, you have violated our community's rules in such a way that the only way seen fit to deal with you is immediate release."

The Giver nodded, a small smile alight on his face again. "At your leisure."

The Chief Elder leaned down a bit, pressing the tip of the needle to the Giver's arm. Her mouth almost to his ear, she whispered, "You have ruined everything."

"It may seem that way now," the Giver whispered back, "but I know something you don't."

The needle pierced his arm and the plunger depressed, sending toxins racing through his bloodstream as he uttered his last words.

"I am the last person you will ever kill."

Because the Giver had learned from Rosemary and Jonas that what truly freed their memories was not simple failure, or leaving the community, as everyone had previously thought.

It was death.

With the Giver's death, all of his memories, countless instances of pain, rage, and grief would ravage the community.

But, among all of the devastation, there would be the memories of love, compassion, and warmth. He could only hope that they would choose to hold on to those memories, to learn from them and act upon them.

The Giver would not live to see the salvation of their world, but as his eyes slid closed he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Nothing would ever be the Same again.


End file.
